For context, check out Schlocktober: A Fake Event Where Anything Goes (@schlocktober)
Master list of my “fics” for the month
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It starts when Steve sees Eddie and Dustin horsing around in the pool in the summer of ‘86. Jonathan has never been comfortable enough in his own body to be too physical, but Eddie is wiry and strong. More importantly, he’s a competitive menace, which triggers something deep in Steve’s soul. He’s never had siblings and so never felt the deep-seated urge to be a pain in the ass, but as Eddie walks by Steve’s pool lounger, he can’t control himself.
“Hey Eds,” he calls out. “Want a beer?” And as Eddie leans in close, Steve dodges the bottle away and swings it between Eddie’s legs.
“Ball tap!” And the look of pained outrage is so funny that Steve cracks up.
Eddie’s hands clench over his junk in his swim trunks, eyes glaring at Steve as they water.
“Fuck you, Harrington. I hope you know this means war.”
And so begins the least sexual genital-touching of Steve’s life. Every single time he and Eddie hang out, in group settings or alone, they both end up trying to ball tap each other. And all weapons are fair game. Swatted hands, dish towels, feet - nothing is off the table.
One day, Steve is home alone listening to a cassette while reorganizing linens on a shelf above him. He doesn’t hear Eddie come up behind him, ready to backhand his nuts. Shifting at the last minute on the stepstool, he stretches his body further away, just enough that Eddie’s fingertips brush his balls from behind.
In the split second it takes his body to realize that it’s just Eddie and not a threat, it somehow misses the memo that this is an entirely inappropriate time to let out a long moan.
And worse, his legs automatically spread to give Eddie more access.
Pairing : Ash x Plussize!Reader, Ellen, Winchesters (mentioned)
Word count : 450
Written for : @spnkinkbingo
Square : Ball slapping.
Warning : Hand cuffs, ball slapping, getting caught
SPN Kink Bingo 2019 Masterlist
“You ready?” you looked along his long and skinny torso, to where he was craning his neck to look down at you. “You sure you want to be-”
“I’m good.” he insisted, cuffs clinking against the metal frame of the cot he was on, and he smiled.
“Alright. If you insist.” you smiled, and looked down. One hand, your fingers were wrapped around the base of his balls, so they stuck out over your hand, skin stretched tight over them. Giving him another glance, your free hand gave them a little slap.
“Come on, baby, you can do better than that.” Licking your lips, the next strike was a little harder. “Oh man, that one tickled.” he chuckled, his hips giving a little wiggle. You gave him another slap like the last one, and he laughed again. “And here I thought you were some back ass chic-” The next slap to his balls cut him off and made his whole body jolt “Jesus Murphy Brown!” he shouted, cuffs clinking against the bars again, and you smiled. “Oh, you been playing with me, haven’t you?” he smiled again.
“You owe me Olive Garden after this.” You told him, giving the right side of his balls a slap that made him hiss and try pulling away on instinct.
“Oh, baby, I’ll give you Olive Garden.” he moaned, eyes shining as they watched you. “Hell, you want waffles, we’ll go to Waffle House. I’ll take you any-damn-where, long as you drive.”
“Olive.” Slap. “Garden.”
“Yeah, you’re a slut for those unlimited breadsticks, ain’t you?” That grin only faltered when you slapped the right side again, and his balls started to take on a pinker hue. “Love me a girl with an appetite.” his head dropped back down against the old flattened pillow and he had almost a dreamy smile as he looked up at the ceiling and you gave his balls another slap.
“Hey, Ash-” A voice was on the other side of the door, and before either of you could really react, the door started to open and Ellen came into view. “We’ve got-” she froze, seeing Ash naked and chained up to the old cot, and you holding his balls, hand poised to slap them again. “Winchesters…” she finished. “Uh- I’ll..” she stared for a minute. “Didn’t need to see that..” and she finally turned, walking back out quickly and slamming the door behind her.
“Should we-?” you looked to Ash.
“Na. The boys can wait, I’m almost done. You want some pasta with those breadsticks, you gotta work for it.” he teased, flexing his ass to make his hips bounce on the mattress.
“You’re crazy.” you laughed.
“I’m Ash, baby.”
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Summary - Dean turning 40 means that he’s in for a special treat
Word Count - 533
A/N - Happy 40th birthday Dean!! This fills my Ball Slapping square for my @spnkinkbingo card
Warnings - ball slapping, Dom/sub play, coming untouched, Dean is a good boy
You had him laid out, naked on the bed before you; his knees on the floor, ass at the edge of the bed. “You ready for your birthday spankin’, babe?”
“Mmm, yes ma’am.” He wiggled his ass in confirmation, and his voice was muffled from his face being pressed against the mattress.
“Spread those legs for me.” He did so. “There’s my good boy.” You slid your hand along the soft purple leather riding crop that was only brought out for special occasions; like a special someone’s fortieth birthday, for example. “You need to count them out for me or I stop, okay?”
“Okay.” You grinned to yourself at how ready he thought he was for what was about to happen.
You rubbed the leather tip across his ass, teasing him with the sensation, you saw his body relax, and you pulled the crop back. You took aim and stuck, his body jerking with the unsuspected target.
“Whoa, Y/N. Aiming a little low there, sweetheart!”
“I didn’t miss. What number was that?”
“Um, one… .” Dean sounded unsure about where this was going now. You struck again, right on the back side of his balls. “Two.” He didn’t sound quite so strained that time.
You built up the speed and force of each strike until Dean was whimpering as he counted aloud for you. Occasionally you would mix it up and aim for his perineum or the bottom of his ass; giving his balls a little break before going back to them. You had read online somewhere where a man was asking about being forty and liking to have his balls slapped as part of foreplay, so you thought this might be a little treat for him. Since Dean was turning forty, it would be something different than what he was used to.
“Thirty-seven,” he grunted. His balls had been drawn up for the last five strikes, he was going to come at any minute, you could tell that he was holding it back.
“My good birthday boy,” you cooed at him, taking just a second to gently rub your fingers across his swollen, red, sack.
He jerked at the soft touch and groaned into the sheets where he had buried his face. You took aim again and whacked him three times back to back, moving from his left to right testicle, then one last hit to his ass hole, just for fun.
“Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty,” Dean sighed in relief. “Ah!” he exclaimed when your water-cooled lips came in contact with his oversensitive, heated skin.
“Happy Birthday, Dean,” you mumbled into him before kissing him again.
Dean laid still, heaving on the mattress as you went to your nightstand and grabbed your lotion. You lightly slapped his ass when you got back and his hips jerked, his ass muscles tensing and relaxing, and he grunted into the comforter.
“Did you just-”
“Yes. Oh, god, yes.”
“I guess you liked the ball slapping, then?” you joked as you dropped cool drips of lotion onto his abused skin.
“Oh yeah.” He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes as you moisturized his balls. “Forty might have been a bit much though,” he laughed.
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